


The way he needs me

by ChrissyStriped



Series: Counting Stars [10]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (for Melkor in that mood it is aftercare), Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angband, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Flogging, Gentleness, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-12-01 22:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrissyStriped/pseuds/ChrissyStriped
Summary: Melkor is angry and Mablung knows it is going to be a hard night. But if his pain is what his Master needs to feel better, he'll bear it for him.





	The way he needs me

**Author's Note:**

> My muses are very active at the moment, to the point that I can't even decide what to write. So many ideas, so little time...
> 
> This is a bit of a companion piece to [Whatever pleases Master](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849031) where Mablung wasn't sure yet how to read Melkor's moods. Here he's been Melkor's slave for a long time and while it is difficult to bear, he knows how to take Melkor's anger.

Mablung knew the moment his Master entered the room that he could do nothing today but lower his head and endure what was coming. His Master had left him here today, he couldn’t tell what had made him so furious, but his bad mood was all too audible. He wasn’t blind with wrath, but it was bad enough that Mablung knew to tread carefully. He knew that it wasn’t his fault, that his Master wasn’t angry with him – he rarely was.

On days like this, serving his Master well meant letting him wreak his anger on him, and that he would do. He wouldn’t talk and he wouldn’t think for himself, just obey his Master’s orders, because this was what his Master needed from him now. To see it like this made it easier to bear the pain – he wouldn’t like it today.

“Cross”, his Master snapped and Mablung obeyed, eyes lowered. Sometimes, when his anger had subsided, his Master acknowledged that his slave had tried to please him and that was all he could hope for today. He moaned when the thongs of the flogger met his back. No warm up today – of course not – his Master didn’t have patience when he was in this mood. Mablung breathed into the pain, didn’t try to suppress first the moans, later the screams. His Master wanted his pain and he gave it to him completely – and it was easier to endure when he didn’t fight it.

The lashes were hard and regular and Mablung submitted to the rhythm. The skin on his shoulders was throbbing and hot, every additional lash searing pain. Eventually his Master turned to his backside, giving it the same treatment. At first it was a relief, the lashes not as painful on his unhurt skin and only an occasional lash hitting his burning shoulders, but soon his buttocks and thighs were as sore as his back. He didn’t wonder how long it would go, it was pointless, beyond his control. His Master would beat him as long as it pleased him. Mablung only hoped it would end before he lost consciousness.

Melkor lowered his arm, breathing quickly, his muscles trembled. His anger had been taken up in his slave’s screams, had lessened as he covered the elf’s back in welts, and turned to arousal at the sight. Melkor stepped forward and leaned his bare chest against his slave’s hot, damp skin. The slave tensed in his bonds and hissed, the sweat burning in the welts. Melkor licked a bead of sweat from his neck, his hand stroked down his side while he rubbed his cock against the slave’s backside.

The slave whimpered when he squeezed his sore buttock and dug his thumb into his oily entrance. Always ready for him... Melkor continued to knead his buttock for a while, enjoyed the small, pained sounds his slave uttered. He had so enjoyed to hear his screams. His cock throbbed and he took it out, entering him with a hard thrust. He set a quick, hard rhythm, felt his slave’s muscles tremble wonderfully around him as he fought to stay relaxed.

Melkor closed his eyes, let the slave’s Music, that was still so beautifully acquiescent, and his moans wash over him. The last bit of chagrin vanished when he came inside his slave.

Afterwards he untied the boy, a hand resting between his shoulder blades so he wouldn’t fall. “Bed”, he ordered when he was sure that the boy would be able to stand and enjoyed the view of his reddened skin, a few welts darker with blood. The boy stumbled to the bed room, exhaustion radiating from him.

He hesitated at the bed, Melkor hadn’t told him how he wanted him, before he knelt on it, offering himself for further use. Melkor caught himself smiling, he wasn’t angry now and he liked to watch the boy being eager to please him. He caressed his back gently, the skin glowing hot under his hand, before sliding his fingers up the slave’s thigh through the trail of his come. The boy licked them clean when he held them to his lips.

Melkor enjoyed the feeling of his tongue on his skin and the total absence of shame in the boy’s Music. He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and spread his legs. “Clean me, slave”, he murmured and sighed satisfied when the boy’s tongue licked his cock. It didn’t take long until he became hard again and the boy wrapped his lips around him. Melkor realised that he was caressing the boy’s neck, but he didn’t stop. The boy had earned himself a little gentleness.

Mablung relaxed his throat to take all of his Master’s arousal and hummed tonelessly. He smiled at himself when the hand in his nape gripped his hair in response. His Master wasn’t angry now, Mablung could feel that he enjoyed this. His back hurt and his passage felt sore but he knew that it could have been worse. He was glad that he could have this with Master now.

Mablung pulled back a little after his Master had come in his mouth but his Master was still caressing his neck and so he stayed on the bed, his head leaned against his Master's thigh. Mablung’s lids became heavy, he fought against the exhaustion trying to get the better of him and winced when his Master stood up.

Mablung struggled to his knees, but before he could withdraw to his pallet, his Master said: “No, stay.” He came back and patted his backside. “Lie down.” Mablung obeyed and stretched himself out, legs still a little spread, just to be sure... he wanted to be a pleasing view to his Master.

After a while he heard his Master come back and although he was ready for a touch, he jumped when he cleaned his thigh with a damp cloth. Mablung bit his lip. His Master felt calm now, but he had been angry and he didn’t want to wake that anger again by what he might perceive as shrinking away from his touch. But his Master didn’t comment on his wince, he just continued to clean him of semen and sweat. Mablung sighed when the cool water eased the throbbing burning of his abused skin.

His Master lay down beside him and pulled the blanket over them both but didn’t embrace him. “Sleep”, he said, still taciturn, before extinguishing the light. On other days Mablung might have dared to lean against him, he longed for being held – but not today. He could count himself lucky that he was allowed to sleep in his Master’s bed. He knew that it was a sign that his Master was pleased with him and after the mood he had been in that was more than enough. He shouldn’t want more, but he couldn’t stop himself from longing for it.


End file.
